


the l-word

by mouthbites



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouthbites/pseuds/mouthbites





	the l-word

it’s yuta who texts, asking him to come over, as usual. he does it with one hand on the way home, not expecting a lot, because sicheng is often busy. yuta takes it in stride when sicheng has dance practice, or has to study, or made plans with someone else, or blames something that just barely sounds believable. yuta shrugs and does something else, because he has other friends, and a life of his own. and there’s no point in building expectations.

but this time sicheng texts back just a minute or two later, seemingly in a good mood, because his _okey~~_ is followed by a series of emojis that don’t seem to have anything to do with each other. yuta squints at them for a minute, trying to figure out if there’s a hidden meaning in the seemingly random combination, but sicheng isn’t the type to make rebuses and riddles. it’s safe to assume that v-sign/100/grinning cat face/pizza slize is simply an accurate representation of his current state of emotions.

 _buy snacks_ , yuta adds, grinning to himself. he’s not above taking advantage of sicheng’s merriness and endless supply of pocket money.

 _haha sure_ , slides up beneath his own message, almost immediately.

yuta walks from the subway station with a spring in his step.

an hour later his phone buzzes again.

_im here_

yuta steps into his sneakers and skips down the stairs. through the dirty glass of the front gate he can see sicheng standing on the step with a plastic convenience store bag in his hand. a smile breaks on sicheng’s face when he spots him.

“took you long enough,” yuta says as he opens the door.

sicheng frowns. “you live far away.”

“i do not.” yuta laughs. “i was just kidding, just kidding. come in.”

they walk up to yuta’s apartment, eat noodles and habitually complain about projects and how much reading they have to do, and then they settle on the couch in front of some inane drama sicheng insists on needing to watch, and yuta doesn’t protest because he always lets sicheng have his way. he doesn’t care, anyway. it doesn’t matter what they do as long as sicheng is there. as long as yuta gets to be with him.

he didn’t plan for it to happen like this. tonight. or at all.

it’s just that when they’re sunken down in the pit of the cushions, it’s one of those moments. sicheng’s arm warm against his, their knees touching, his smell softly enveloping him. sicheng allows him to make comments on the plot and jokes about the characters, swatting at him when he talks too much or is too mean, but laughs that cute silly giggle of his, the one that sounds almost like a series of hiccups, and yuta feels it, like a wave washing over him, warm and tingling, filling him, soaking him through.

the sensation is familiar enough at this point. usually it’s just lurking in the back of his chest, lukewarm and smooth, and he can smile at it, and doesn’t have to do anything more.

this time the impulse grows, and he can’t, or just doesn’t, try to stop it.

it’s not like it’s the first time. he has said it before, many times; casually, playfully. and sicheng has said it back; clung to yuta’s shoulder and hummed it in a high-pitched, cutesy tone, when yuta has agreed to do him a favor or buy him food. copied yuta’s cartoony voice over the phone, at the end of a call. texted _wo ai ni_ in hangul in reply to yuta’s hanzi, at night, before falling asleep.

but yuta knows that this time, if he changes his mind afterwards, if he comes to his senses mid-way, he won’t be able to laugh it off. like a joke, a nothing. not if he actually says it, for real.

he leans his face against sicheng’s shoulder, lips brushing the fabric of his t-shirt, just below his ear. he whispers it, voice surprisingly steady, because it’s true.

“i love you.”

for a while, nothing happens. the actors are still moving around on his laptop screen but yuta can’t hear their stilted lines or the sappy soundtrack, just the piercing silence and his own pulse tapping in his ears. he wants to sit up straight, openly watch sicheng’s face, take in every little thing it might betray. he’s too selfish to say that he doesn’t need an answer, that he just wants it said.

of course, he already knows the answer.

he knows he loves too much, too hard, in the wrong way, not like a friend, or a hyung, or anything sicheng can return. not because he’s straight, or has a boyfriend, but simply because he doesn’t feel it, doesn’t see in yuta what yuta sees in him, and probably never will. and he knows that sicheng probably has been expecting this, felt it hanging between them, hoping the moment wouldn’t actually come. trusting yuta to not be this stupid.

some people just aren’t meant for each other.

(the shitty part is knowing that even if sicheng says it, actually says it, he will still not be able to let go.)

he waits in the dark, quiet, breathless, dreading to hear it but still needing to.

finally, sicheng shifts, pulling his arm to himself, disconnecting their knees.

“can’t we just watch the show?” he doesn’t look at yuta, and his voice is low and tight.

yuta swallows. “yeah.” he lifts his head. doesn’t close the distance again. “sure.”


End file.
